


OT3 Remix

by streetsuss_serenade



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Complete, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-30
Updated: 2018-12-30
Packaged: 2019-09-30 19:23:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17229767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streetsuss_serenade/pseuds/streetsuss_serenade
Summary: On Tumblr, warriorgays had an amazing galaxy brain meme post about which couple in the bradnateray OT3 invited which third person to join and create the amazingess of the the OT3, so please enjoy a couple of scenes playing with that idea.





	OT3 Remix

**Author's Note:**

> Based solely off the characters in the mini-series

**Regular Brain: Brad/Nate + Ray**

“Happy Birthday to me!” Ray sang as he burst into the Colbert/Fick apartment. Flopping onto the couch and landing mostly on Brad’s enormous legs, he looked up at him and asked “Whadja get me?”

“Nothing as you are not a child, and as a fully employed adult, you can purchase whatever you need for yourself. And frequently do.”

“You probably don’t even get children birthday presents, you evil Grinch!”

“That’s not even the correct reference, you moron. I’m not Christian, and even I know that.”

Deciding to hit the softer target, Ray hollered “NATE, come in here. Your boyfriend is being mean to me on my birthday.”

Nate, who’d apparently been sitting in the armchair across the room this whole time, the sneaky bastard, said, “He’s not being mean. He’s being contrary just so you have the opportunity to get outraged, which is, in and of itself, a gift to you, since you love nothing more than a good drunken rant.”

That was…a lot of words for Ray’s birthday booze soaked brain to process, so he latched on to the important one. 

“Is that your fancy way of telling me you didn’t get me a gift either, you stingy bastard?”

Brad’s hands were gently petting Ray’s hair, and it felt so nice, Ray almost didn’t notice Brad’s kneecaps poking into his kidneys. Almost.

“If you really want, Nate and I can go in and buy you a thorough de-lousing. I’m sure the vet clinic has a tub big enough.”

“Fuck you.”

“That could be arranged,” Nate said mildly, “But is that really what you want for your birthday or do you want Brad to fuck you?”

Ray was really underprepared for the turn this conversation had taken.

“He’s blushing,” Brad reported to Nate, because he was a shitty best friend and a smug bastard, and if he weren’t really good with his hands, Ray would definitely be storming off of his lap right now.

“We can work out the details later,” Nate said briskly, “Right now, he needs food. Pizza?”

Ray, voice muffled from where his traitorous body had snuggled deeper into Brad’s lap, said “Fries.”

Brad and Nate laughed at him, and Ray knew he was not going to get fries for dinner, but that was okay. As soon as he sobered up, he was going to get birthday sex, and that would do.

 

**Expanding Brain: Brad/Ray + Nate**

Nate was expecting a package, which was why he opened the door without first looking through the peephole, and was thus struck by surprise by Brad and Ray standing on his doorstep. 

“Fick! We thought you needed more Marines in your sad existence, given that there is a limit to how many books you can come all over before they ban you from the university library.”

Ray pushed past him and into his studio apartment. Brad muttered, “For God’s Sake, Ray,” before clasping Nate on the shoulder in greeting and following Ray.

“Clearly we are only just in time, because you have a fucking throw blanket on the back of your couch. This is clearly much worse than we thought. A throw blanket. What kind of self-respecting Marine…”

Nate turned to Brad for an explanation, but Brad just shook his head. There was no explanation for Ray.

“It’s not that I’m not glad to see you,” Nate interrupted, before Ray could get a full head of steam going, “but Stafford was here literally last week.”

“Stafford,” Ray scoffed, “That idiot thinks your shit can cure cancer. I meant real Marines in your life, or more accurately, in your…”

“Ray!” Brad barked, seemingly meaning it this time. 

“What?! You said we should…”

“I thought maybe we’d make it all the way into the apartment before we started.”

Ray turned a circle in Nate’s living room cum bedroom, “There is no further, dude. There is only here. And assholes who hang back silent and creepy don’t get to criticize my approach.”

“You’ll have to excuse Ray. In the backwoods, inbred, wasteland he calls home, his romantic prospects are limited to cousins and livestock, so he’s not used to having to be articulate for his romantic prospects. The spastic flailing you’re witnessing is his redneck, braindead version of flirting.”

"Is it?”

“I believe, in his culture, insulting your decor is considered dinner and a movie, and the crude innuendo I just interrupted is the whiskey tango equivalent of first base.”

“Nice high horse, asshole. What have you got that’s better? Your only move appears to be insulting me, which worked for me because I speak anal retentive weirdo, but I don’t know how you think that’s going to work in this situation. Nate’s been watching you insult me for months, and he hasn’t shown the slightest inclination of fucking us.”

Without asking, Brad and Ray took the six packs they were each carrying into the kitchen.Sitting at the bar stools at the counter in his own kitchen, Nate watched the two of them bicker as they put away beer in the fridge.

_(What the FUCK is that?_

_A Vegetable, Ray, I’d think you’d at least recognize them from the pictures on your fruit snacks._

_Fuck off, I mean behind the lettuce._

_Oh. That’s...sadness made physical form, I imagine.)_

Nate knew they were showing off for him, and he had to admit he loved it. They were right about one thing; he did need more Marines in his life.

“Brad,” Nate said, “Since you’re such an expert, how do I flirt back in whiskey tango? Does it involve goats? I don’t I can get to a farm before they close.’

Nate was rewarded with two identical grins, full of delight and mischief.

“Liquor will do, sir”

Nate almost replied that it was only two in the afternoon, but he caught himself. “Cabinet above the fridge.” 

**Galaxy Brain: Nate/Ray + Brad**

“Ray,” Nate said, his voice soft but firm, “show Brad how you like to be kissed.”

Ray shot him a glassy-eyed smile, and then leaned in to kiss Brad. 

Brad wasn’t sure when Nate had been elected the stage manager of their threesome, but then, Brad hadn’t been sure of anything since Ray had drunkenly climbed into his lap and asked if he wanted to go to bed, and instead of pointing out that Ray had the wrong lap, Nate had smiled and asked what Brad thought.

Ray’s preferred style of kissing was much like his approach to conversation, scattershot yet surprisingly effective. Held still by Nate’s hand on the back of his neck, Brad could do nothing but follow the nipping, sucking actions of Ray’s mouth against his.

“Good, baby,” Nate said, and Ray moved to accept a kiss from him as if it were his due reward. Held close by both of them, Brad felt duty bound to watch. Not that it was exactly a hardship.

Nate pulled back and looked seriously at Ray. “Now, baby, show Brad how I like to be kissed.”

“You’re so fucking bossy,” Ray griped, but he leaned in to kiss Brad again, this time with a soft mouth and sweeping tongue, taking his time. Despite this being the hottest sex ed lesson he’d ever experienced, Brad tried to pay attention, given that he was hopefully going to be called upon to practice what he’d learned at some point in the near future.

Nate had apparently decided Brad had learned enough to graduate to the next level, because his hand left the back of Brad’s neck and he leaned into Brad’s space. 

What followed was probably the best first kiss of his life. It would have been the best, except for the part of his brain which held back to scream about the absolute fucking weirdness of Nate studying him and strategizing during his kisses with Ray, but even that part was eventually subdued by Nate’s clever mouth.

When Nate pulled back, Brad shot an incredulous glance at Ray who grinned and pumped his fist.

“Yeah! My boyfriend’s a mad sex scientist! A sexual savant!”

“You’re so fucking weird,” Brad said, and even he wasn’t sure if he was talking to Ray or Nate or both, but his voice was embarrassingly fond.


End file.
